


Quiet Forever

by lealila



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Brothers, Dark Agenda, Death, F/M, Female Homosexuality, Revenge, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lealila/pseuds/lealila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anakin kinda sorta doesn't pick a side, the whole galaxy kinda sorta feels the consequences. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: references to Little Lion Man; Harry Potter; Love, Actually.

_ Quiet Forever _

_when anakin kinda sorta doesn't pick a side, the whole galaxy kinda sorta feels the consequences._

(That night—either in the cockpit or in your bed, you're not too sure: you both are connected—you dream of what could be. A burning temple and flowers. There's weeping and screaming in the background. The dream switches, and now the flowers are dancing, and there's laughter and everything is happy, now. The dreams keep switching back and forth, back and forth, _backandforth_ —

You—the one in Utapau, or in the one in Coruscant, because you'll never stop the connection now—never wake up.)

* * *

The world is loud, and they keep screaming, _(words,words!)_ but Anakin can't understand exactly what is being said. He tries to look for an escape, because he doesn't know how to answer. Maybe, he doesn't want to answer….

_(i can save her.)_

_(i need your help, anakin.)_

_(everything dies. eventually, even the stars burn out.)_

They keep asking for him to choose. And then Anakin thinks—

_I'm the chosen one. I'm supposed to balance the Force, not pick a side._

And so he balances. Laughs.

And walks out the door.

* * *

(At least. You—both of you, because you both are one singular person—don't think you wake up.

Because, that time that _could_ have been when you woke up—it's not much different from your dream. There's burning and screaming and dancing and weeping and laughing and flowers. The stars are shining and your battling your way through _something—_

_wake up, little one._

_wake up._

_everything's fine, now._

_wake up._

You wake up.

And smile.

And you, the Sons of Suns, are now alive.)

* * *

This story is about…love and loss. Brotherhood and betrayal. Courage and sacrifice. Where the what-could-have-been's and should-never-be's will come to life. Where grace is wasted, and boldness stands along among the wreck. People will die. Some will fall. And a new terror will rise, in the place of another. But stars will rise too. There will be a savior, who should have been lost. And there will be hope. Because love means never having to say you're sorry. Because the only thing that one needs to do is turn on the light.

_love is more than a candle._

_love can ignite the stars._

— _revenge of the sith novelization,_

_matthew stover_


	2. Jedi

Obi-Wan wakes in water. He struggles to put his re-breather on, but finds that it's already on. Odd. Trying to look where he can get out, he slips through the water until he sees sunlight, and swims up, desperately trying to regain his senses. Because, he _swears_ that his own men shot him down. But that doesn't make any sense. Why would they shoot him down? Is this a dream, like that one right before—

Focus on the here now. Use the Force. Think. (No, this is not a dream.)

Blinking, gasping, he breaks the surface, staring up at one of the sink-holes that make Utapau. He pauses, and listens. He hears rumbling, and the ground is shaking. No doubt, the clones are searching for him to see if he's dead or not.

Betrayal stabs him, but he shoves it aside. Now is not the time to dwell on it.

Obi-Wan makes his way out of the water, and starts planning on how he's going to get out of this planet.

* * *

Anakin deflects every bolt coming at him, desperately trying to protect the seven younglings under his charge after he found them. But it's _hard_. He can feel every death of his comrades. He can feel the betrayal that _his clones_ _(and they are his clones—after having the 501st under his charge for three and a half years, it's easy to recognize their symbols, their personalities, how they shoot)_ are firing at him, not caring that they once served for him loyally. He can feel the echo of confusion. He can feel the knowledge that… _this_ is what he saw those two nights ago, and he could've done something to prevent it.

They're at the hanger, now—there's a speeder, big enough to fit them all. Ushering the younglings back into a slightly hidden corner, he kneels. "See that speeder over there? The one with the red stripes?" They nod. "Okay. Now. I want you all to stay really close, but get in as fast as you can. I will protect you as best as I can, but I may not make it." Some gasp, but Anakin ignores it. "If I don't, I want to take off, and head straight to the Senate apartments. Look for Senator Amidala, or Organa. They will help you. Understand?" They nod. They all know who the two Senators are—after all, every Jedi knows Jedi allies.

Anakin offers an encouraging smile. "On three. One. Two." He stands, and uses the Force to check for clones: there are none.

The younglings stand too, waiting for his signal, anxious.

Anakin sends s brief prayer to the Force and his childhood gods of the Mli.

"Three."

* * *

Aayla falls, and the world watches, it's breath silent. The planet tries to sustain her, but it's hard with the clones still shooting. So the planet shoots back. Felucians pour out from the fauna, and raid the AT-TE. The clones scream, and fall silent.

The world watches as Barriss Offee slowly steps from the background, dead clones at her feet.

"Is she okay?"

Felucia rumbles.

* * *

Siri walks along the carnage. Clone bodies and droid parts lay scattered around.

 _And I should be there, too_ she thinks. _Dead and broken on Kliu._

She has to get off. There are still clones looking for her. And the Sepratists haven't given up either, she suspects. Siri pauses and breathes, slipping into the Force.

The hanger isn't too far away. And there has to be other Jedi that survived. Siri is not the only one left. She isn't she isn't she _isn't._

* * *

Watching the Jedi Temple burn, Padmé has the urge to go and look and help the survivors, and the urge to burst into sobs. If she didn't have the child inside her, she probably would help the survivors. She does cry, however, but Padmé doesn't once make it vocal. She will be strong. She will she will she _will_. Anakin will be home any second. He _will_.

See-Threepio shuffles closer. "Mistress Padmé! Mistress Padmé! Oh, what is happening! The Jedi Temple—"

"Padmé."

She turns, immediately grinning, hand going to her mouth. Anakin stands in the doorway with seven younglings at his legs. "We need your help."

The grin disappears. "Threepio—go get us something to eat." She kneels, offering her hand. "Let's get you something to eat, yes? Brave souls deserve a reward." The younglings smile and come forward, not even glancing outside the window to their burning home.

"Thank you, Ma'am," a Togruta says.

"Please. Call me Padmé." They nod in unison. She leads them into the kitchen, casting a glance back at Anakin. He stands where she was standing just moments ago, staring at the Temple. She almost goes to him, but the younglings are a more pressing matter at the moment. And besides, they don't quite know what's happening, and Padmé sees no reason to change that now.


End file.
